


burning

by oculata



Series: the beginning of forever [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 10x06, Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculata/pseuds/oculata
Summary: Ian left with Paula hours ago, and he’s still not fucking home.(10x06 fill-in fic)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: the beginning of forever [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524932
Comments: 18
Kudos: 290





	burning

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_clennam)

_Stay fucking awake._

It was hard to, though. It was well past two in the morning, and the idea of laying down in Ian’s tiny bed upstairs only seemed more and more tempting as the minutes marched on. But he had to stay awake, he kept reminding himself. He had to stay awake until Ian came home so he could make sure that he was alright. 

Mickey would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting increasingly nervous as the time ticked by and inched closer to morning. Not knowing where Ian was was eating at him. He was slobbering over his fingers, chipping his nails into sharp, irregular points with his teeth, and his leg was bouncing wildly. He was only sitting on the couch in intervals because the energy in his body was constantly forcing him off any surface he dared lean against—he’d sit for a few moments but inevitably stand up again and amble towards the window, hoping and praying that he’d see Ian’s tall, dumb, ginger ass waddling down the street.

But in those brief moments where he was sitting, leaning, or just generally idle, he found his eyes drooping closed and the tension in his body being loosened by the temptation of sleep. But then some sort of switch in him would flip—he’d bolt awake so quick that he would feel the air bat against his eyeballs, and then he would scamper towards the window in a panic, terrified that he may have missed Ian coming back home to him. Staying alert was getting harder, though.

_Stay fucking awake._

But he was determined.

Some more pacing and nervous nail biting and joint cracking found him nearly tossing himself from wall to wall from anxiety by the time it was three. The back of his shirt was cold from the sweat that had drenched it. It was such a confusing feeling for him—being so full of bursting perturbation while his body was practically melting into a puddle from exhaustion. If it weren’t for his constant pinching of his thighs and arms in an attempt to keep him in reality, Mickey would have been certain that the pictures floating around in his vision were merely a dream. There was still no sign of Ian, and he was debating just saying to hell with it and going out to look for the guy himself.

But what if Ian came home right after he left? He cursed the situation under his breath and flopped down onto the couch yet again, scratching at his forehead in frustration.

 _Stay fucking awake. Stay fucking awake. Stay fucking_ awake.

He stared up at the ceiling in a sleepy contemplation. What Ian had told him earlier about Paula didn’t sit well at all, but Ian seemed okay enough with going with her to wherever she took him. Maybe Ian knew what he was doing; maybe he knew how to control Paula, and Mickey was freaking out for no reason at all. But, if Ian did know how to work with Paula, why the fuck was he still not home? Mickey groaned and cupped his face with his hands, breathing out hot, forceful breaths that escaped noisily from the seam between his hands. He threw his head back and stared up at the ceiling, keeping his eyelids as open as possible.

_Stay fucking awake._

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed with him staring up into the white vastness of the ceiling, and he wasn’t sure how the shadow caught his attention at all, but something in the light shifted in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head towards the window, and when he saw a familiar tall figure walking towards the house, he sprang up from the couch and ran to the door.

He flung it open before Ian even reached the steps and was running down to the lawn to meet him.

“Ian, holy fuck,” Mickey gasped into Ian’s chest with his arms thrown around Ian’s body. He took in a deep breath of Ian’s scent and a second to process the fact that Ian was actually _home_ with him again before lifting his head to look Ian in the face, trying to catch the glossiness in his eyes by the aid of the streetlight. “Where the fuck were you?”

Ian didn’t respond. Mickey’s concern did not abate in the way he was hoping it would. Instead, it was growing exponentially and shooting out of his chest, and his vision bounced helplessly around Ian’s body. That was when he noticed Ian was shaking.

“Ian?”

When Ian didn’t respond again, Mickey pulled Ian down onto himself and embraced him tightly. Then he felt Ian shudder into his shoulder. Ian’s hands gripped onto his shoulder blades and his nails dug in so hard that Ian’s hands trembled from the exertion. Ian let out a few shaky, heavy breaths as he held onto Mickey—as if his grip on Mickey’s body was the only thing keeping him attached to earth. Mickey pressed the side of his head against Ian’s and stood still as Ian breathed into him, pressing their bodies impossibly close together.

After a while, Ian’s breathing had slowed down enough and the clawing had slackened, Mickey smoothed a hand over Ian’s back, pressing warmth into his skin from the friction. He placed a kiss on Ian’s shoulder.

“Ian, what happened?” he eventually tried again.

“Mickey, she’s fucking crazy,” Ian blurted with horror and rose up to look at his boyfriend’s face. “She tied me to a fucking chair and was gonna let her rabid dog bite my fucking dick off.”

Any lingering feelings of sleep that Mickey had stowed in his body expelled at that moment. His eyes shot wide open and his jaw dropped as he regarded Ian’s ghostly expression.

“I’m gonna fucking—” he began with a chilling intensity but cut himself off before the final, fatal word fell out. He didn’t want to stress Ian out more; throw extra fears into his already shaken brain. That was the last thing Mickey wanted to do. They knew that Ian didn’t react well to him immediately jumping to protect him by any means necessary—they’d learned that. So, he shoved his rage down for the time being, loosened his taut shoulders, and softened the horrified expression he knew he had on his face.

But he felt it bubble up again. That sadistic, deranged parole officer was right at the brink of disfiguring Ian for failing to comply with her intentions, and Mickey fought so _so_ hard to not burst into flames. He dropped his arms from Ian and went to clutch his hand. He then turned around and began leading them back into the house, counting to ten and using his full focus to take in breaths as level as he muster could the whole way back to the couch. 

He sat them down and was intending on staying that way until Ian unexpectedly crawled over his body and pushed him until he was laying down with Ian on top of him. He shoved his face back into Mickey’s neck and took long, smooth breaths, savoring everything about how Mickey’s scent filled his chest—how it filled it so well, so perfectly, that it made Ian feel like his being was finally whole.

Mickey’s breath was a little shaky, so he enveloped Ian’s neck with his arms and let Ian’s body weigh him down. Mickey tried to talk a few times, but each time Ian felt Mickey’s chest rise like it always did when he was about to speak, he would tense up. Mickey would exhale a small sigh and hold Ian a little tighter.

Ian just wanted to be held. He already knew that Mickey would do anything for him—he just wanted to physically feel that knowledge now.

So Mickey laid there, keeping his arms wrapped around Ian’s neck as he pressed soft kisses into his temple and gently hushed him in his ear over and over again. They laid there silently, feeling each other’s existences, and then Ian’s breath slowed down and his body became a bit heavier. Soon after, Ian’s body twitched and the slow, peaceful breath that Ian had when he slept began.

Mickey listened to that noise for a while. Only until after he felt like he had confirmed that Ian was asleep did he allow himself to doze off as well, his warm arms still wrapped around Ian's cold neck.


End file.
